Pull-my-brain-out-and-replace-it-with-a-plush-bear-PLEASE

While I love the changing seasons, and I really love autumn, I think the incoming (outgoing?) pressure front is doing bad things to everyone at Chez Foster.

Yesterday, I had a pull-my-brain-out-and-replace-it-with-a-plush-bear-PLEASE magnitude headache, so I took a couple Extra Strength Excedrin to quell it. Alas, that did not succeed in alleviating the pain, but it did make me nauseated. Then, due to MARTA-related vagaries, I missed my normal connecting train (the operator forgot to open the doors on the right side of the train, stranding those of us clustered there until the train made “moving on now” sounds and we all bounded out of the left side. Subsequently, I scampered to the northbound platform just in time to see my train pulling out . . .) and had to wait for the next one. By the time the train arrived and I’d reached the North Springs station, I had gotten progressively more ill until I was thoroughly motion sick. Riding the MARTA doesn’t trigger inner ear distress in me usually, so I’m thinking it must’ve been the queasy from the pills compounded by it.

Driving home, it was only through a phenomenal feat of will (and fear since I didn’t see how I could avoid being plowed into by rush hour traffic if I had to stop) that I was not violently sick. I slunk into our house, hoping to find much comfort and pampering, only to discover that fosteronfilm was also suffering from a headache. To his credit, he did indeed do his very best to comfort and pamper me, but, well, nursemaid abilities are limited when the caregiver is also in pain.

Jump to later that night, after dinner–which helped, but I was still feeling pretty blah–and I was crashed out on the couch, mostly asleep. I woke up to Hobkin snuggling under the blankets with me, and Matthew announcing that the lil guy had just sicked up his dinner.

Sigh.

Hobkin and I snuggled for a nap–and major snaps go to my loving hubby for cleaning up the mess all by himself–and then Hobkin wakes me up by leaping out of my arms and pelting to the kitchen. Sure ’nuff, he’s sick again. Although I remain immensely grateful that the fuzzy beast has the courtesy not to be sick on me, the couch, or the carpet.

I’m not sure if Hobkin was stressed from both me and Matthew being sick, or if he’s also getting hit by whatever’s affecting us. But at least he hasn’t sicked up since.

Today, I still have a headache. I think it’s sinus-related. The two Sudafed I took this morning took the edge off, but they were also the sum total of my traveling supply of Sudafed and have worn off. And even if I had more, I don’t know if I’d want to take it. My tummy continues to be unsettled, and I have a MARTA ride home yet to survive.

So yah, I feel like crap.

   

Writing Stuff
Received:
– My contrib. copy of the Thou Shalt Not anthology, published by Dark Cloud Press.
– Payment from Pseudopod for their forthcoming podcast of “Returning My Sister’s Face.”

A good mail day to offset the queasy health day.